


Hindsight is 20/20

by Sanjuno



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: A very creative reinterpretation of events, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Because I can, CHAOS is very fond of Cid, Cid does not appreciate the beauty of the Author's metaphysics, Clones, FFVII is Not A Nice Source Fandom, Fix-It, Hojo is a thing in this fic, Mother-complex put to good use, Multi, READ THE CHAPTER NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS, Sorry Not Sorry, This had better save the world or Cid is going to hurt someone, This results in time travel, Time Travel Fix-It, We're still not sure who Sephiroth's daddy is, be warned, involuntary gender reassignment, is also a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:18:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5214248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanjuno/pseuds/Sanjuno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When CHAOS refuses to see Captain Cid Highwind's life come to an end, Time itself is shattered into pieces. What this means for former TURK Vincent Valentine is the chance to right some of his wrongs. What this means for Captain Cid Highwind is a massive headache. What this means for CHAOS is a chance to see his race restored to their former glory. What this means for the Planet and the Jenova Wars is yet to be determined. What this means for General Sephiroth... is both a brand new adventure, and a completely new family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. CHAOS Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Every fanfic author who writes fixit fic eventually resorts to the time travel trope. This is me, doing that thing which I just mentioned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CHAOS does not know how to let go gracefully. CHAOS also does not like to take no for an answer. Cid would object if it didn't mean he gets to live.

**(In which the CHAOS factor takes effect.)**

Cid Highwind was forty-eight years old.

A genius pilot and an engineer without peer, he had reached for the stars and caught them in his own two hands. The sky was no limit for him. Cid was tough, and smarter than about ninety percent of the population, and everything that he had he worked hard for, he earned every single thing he owned. Captain Highwind cussed like a sailor and smoked like a chimney and drank tea with manners that would make the sourest mother-in-law clench in envy. People who really ought to have known better followed him without thinking twice about it, and people who did think twice about it gave in after enough yelling. He had helped save the world two or three times depending on how you tallied it up. His name was a living legend.

Cid Highwind was forty-eight years old, and a terminal patient in the long-term care wing of Healin’ Lodge.

Cid Highwind was also sick to death of being coddled like a damn baby. He had incurable necrosis of the lungs, not brain cell atrophy.

“Vincent.” Cid levelled his permanent visitor with a determined look. “I wanna go out.”

“Cid, the doctors said that you should take it easy.” Vincent was not saying no, just reminding Cid of the professional opinion.

“Fuck ‘em.” Cid rarely bothered with extra words these days, finding it hard enough to breath. Vincent missed the rants, if only because hearing Cid yell would mean his body was as healthy as the blond man’s temper. Hojo’s final revenge had been a deadly pathogen released inside of his labs, targeted at anyone who would be inclined to investigate after his death. Cid was not the only member of AVALANCHE living at the Lodge. “I wanna see sky. Please, Vincent.”

“Very well.” Vincent sighed and shut down the monitors to avoid any alarms alerting the staff to their excursion. It was killing Cid to be cooped up here, surrounded but white walls and pity, treated like a child who could not make his own choices. Vincent never thought twice about complying with Cid’s requests as the man rarely asked for anything more than to be taken outside. It was not the first time they had snuck out like this, though the frequency had dropped as Cid’s condition worsened.

The air outside was crisp and fresh, carrying hints of salt from the nearby sea. Cid sighed happily as Vincent carried him out on to the balcony and launched them both into the sky on Chaos’ borrowed wings. These secret flights were the only times Vincent saw the familiar spark of life return to Cid’s sky-blue eyes.

“It’s beautiful…” Cid sighed, eyes sliding shut as he sank into Vincent’s arms. “Thanks, Vincent.”

“Anything for you, Chief.” Vincent tightened his grip, swallowing back sorrow and rage.

Cid stopped breathing.

Grieving agony sliced through Vincent’s soul, followed by equally painful relief when Cid gasped and shuddered, chest hitching as he struggled for breath.

“Easy, Chief.” Vincent banked as gently as possible, not wanting to jar his passenger and shock Cid’s lungs into seizing, but hurrying back to the Lodge as best he could. “Just breathe.”

“Vincent...” Cid’s voice was thin and pleading, his eyes full of pain as his body betrayed him.

**‘He’s dying!’**

_‘No, not Cid. Please spirits, not Cid.’_

**‘Fool!’** With a growl, Chaos ripped control of the body from Vincent and completed the change from man to demon. **‘I will not let this one die!’**

Now where was it? Ah. There.

The world spun around the pair as the demon turned on a wingtip and shot forward, faster than mere muscle could account for. Invisible to human vision but glowing brightly to demon senses was Chaos’ goal. A casual blast from the hovering anthromorphic personification of a cosmic force unearthed the flow of the Lifestream. It swirled strangely at this point, a nexus of converging lines rather than the usual smooth swell, and Chaos eyed the glowing eddies with satisfaction.

Not perfect – perfect would be too much to ask – but it would do. It would do very well for what Chaos had in mind. The shadow at the back of Chao’s mind that was Vincent’s more human side caught a hint of what Chaos planned to do and struggled for ascendance. _‘Are you insane? What if it doesn’t work?’_

“… Vincent.” Crimson spotted bloodless lips as the wind tore the thin whisper of Cid’s voice away. Objection died, and single-minded determination was all that remained in its wake.

Chaos folded his wings around them both, the self-that-was-Vincent moving to put his will behind Chaos’ power as they fell from the sky and into the glowing whirlpool. The swirling up-well of mystic forces created by Chaos erupted into a geyser of light.

The world ground to a stop.

/…/

**JENOVA Project File No. 12**

_Dr. Crescent’s genome has completely absorbed the Cetra cells. Mako infusion increasing by 5%._

**JENOVA Project File No. 15**

_Specimen CC (Crescent/Cetra hybrid) has reached a physical maturation point. Mako levels stabilized at 69%. Anticipate removal from growth chamber within the week._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the usual method of Time Travel, I am just warning you all about that now.


	2. Fate laughs when men make plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cid wakes up. This surprises exactly no one, but Cid is very confused by it.

=/=

**(In which the Norns have a sense of humour.)**

**JENOVA Project File No. 22**

_Removal of Specimen CC delayed by power surge. Electrical storm caused damage necessitating recalibration of priority equipment. Specimen CC shows no signs of complications. Neurological activity has increased by 34%._

/…/

So this was what being dead feels like. It was nice, a peaceful, floating sort of feeling. Really quite a soothing effect, if you liked that kind of thing.

Boring as hell in Cid’s expert, and not-at-all biased, opinion.

Cid really needed to stop tempting the Fates. The Norns could be vindictive little bitches when they wanted to be.

Sure enough, the peace was soon disturbed further as Cid was very rudely hauled out of his quiet little bubble into his own personal hell. Lungs fighting for air – Gods, there were no words to describe how much Cid hated that feeling – and liquid was expelled from his lungs in heaves, helped along by someone performing professional compressions on his back.

Ugh. Whatever that shit was it tasted disgusting. Cid blinked, expecting blood thanks to the sour-copper sting lingering at the back of his throat, but the green glow of processed mako puddled in front of his nose instead. The fuck was this nonsense?

That was when Cid noticed several things at once, his brain kicking into high gear now that it was no longer preoccupied with establishing a breathing rhythm. He was naked, the metal floor was cold, and people were talking.

“She’s performing respirations on her own. Excellent!” The male voice was vaguely familiar. Like Cid _should_ recognize it, but… it was hard to track things properly. There was a green haze overlaying his vision, and his ears had that pressurized feeling that made everything sound far away. Mako. There was mako in his ears, and it was probably in his eyes too. What the hell was going on?

Cid tried to push himself up in order to find the nearest target and _shake_ until they gave him some answers about what the fuck had happened, but ended up flopping ungracefully on to his back instead. That was less than intimidating. His body refused to cooperate with him.

Fighting back panic through sheer bull-headed grit, Cid blinked the sting of mako out of his eyes. Stared for a long moment at the figures standing over his, taking the time to process what he was seeing. There was a dead man looking down at Cid with the most frighteningly greedy expression Cid had ever seen aimed in his direction.

“She’s _perfect_.” A woman wearing a lab coat knelt down on the floor, her long hair tied up with long ribbons. She was careful not to touch the mako as she started rattling off numbers, her gloved hands disturbingly impersonal as she took Cid’s vitals. There was an assistant standing to the side taking a record. The woman’s hands were cold, and Cid wanted her to stop touching him. Somehow, Cid felt like he should recognize her, but mostly he just wanted to get away. The woman stood up, beaming down at Cid before turning to Hojo. “Her vitals are extraordinary! Should we proceed?”

“Of course. Harvest what we need.” Hojo stepped aside as two blank-faced men stepped forward and lifted Cid off the metal grating and on to a gurney. Cid’s head flopped forward when he was picked up, and that was when Cid noticed that he had tits.

What. The. Fuck.

Whoever designed hell was obviously a _lot_ more imaginative than previously considered. Apparently fire and brimstone were _far_ too common for Captain Highwind. No, let us turn him into a _chick instead_. Fucking shit.

/…/

**JENOVA Project File No. 24**

_Specimen CC removed from growth tank. Subject proceeded to maintain self-regulation of vital functions without the aid of support machinery. Will continue to monitor subject’s vital functions for signs of degradations._

_Subject presents as an adult female of North Continent Ancestry. Indications of basic neural impulses are present, but Subject as yet falls short of actual self-awareness. Muscle reflexes and physiological responses present at 14% above maximum range for the primary donor genome._

**JENOVA Project File No. 25**

_Specimen CC differs from Dr. Crescent’s (primary genetic donor) expressive phenotype. CC appears to lack melanin count possessed by Dr. Crescent, resulting in differences in pigmentation. CC displays signs of near albinism (blonde/blue expression.) Full examination revealed extensive skeletal differences from Dr. Crescent. CC exhibits greater bone density and tensile strength in addition to an extended motion range and broader frame. CC is 179cm, while Crescent is 162cm – this is perhaps the effect of JENOVA on the subject._

_Will continue to monitor subject for signs of degenerative Green Syndrome._

=/=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you that this was not the usual Time-Travel fixit. This is where the fun starts.


	3. In which Cid makes a damn fine woman.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cid adjusts to his change in circumstances. Hojo and Lucrecia are a match made in Dr. Frankenstein's lab. Cid is not impressed.
> 
> NOT. IMPRESSED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, my distain for Lucrecia Crescent is almost as strong for my distaste for Hojo. You've been warned.

=/=

**(In which Cid makes a damn fine woman.)**

**JENOVA Project File No. 36**

_Attempts to fertilize ovum harvested from CC all failures. Ovum cell barrier wall impenetrable by spermatozoa samples on file._

**JENOVA Project File No. 37**

_Specimen CC now capable of self-locomotion and beginning to display signs of advanced motor control. Awareness of simple self-maintenance concepts i.e. hygiene, feeding, and dressing confirmed by Dr. Crescent. Subject displays some signs of vocal recognition, but as yet has indicated no facility for language._

/…/

Over the course of those first few days, after waking up in a woman’s body and realizing that he had somehow ended up in the past, Cid realized that no, he was not in hell, but he might as well have been there after everything was considered.

The ‘harvesting’ as Hojo put it was fucking painful. Lucrecia (and that was a kicker, Vincent’s old flame was even more of a heartless bitch than Cid at his least sympathetic had thought) was riding everyone’s asses to ‘be gentle’ and ‘not damage her’! In bits and pieces over the span of a week, Cid got an idea of the situation he was in as he was poked and prodded and subjected to things that he _hoped_ were the result of Hojo’s sadism and not really something women _actually_ had to put up with during medical exams.

The gist of it was that Lucrecia had miscarried. She had not been strong enough to carry to term after Hojo’s in-vetro experiments. If she had stopped when Vincent tried to get Hojo to suspend the project, maybe she could have successfully finished the pregnancy. As it stood, Hojo had ignored her failing health in favour of continuing his experiments, and it had cost him his ‘specimen’. Cysts had developed, and ulcers had ruptured the walls of her womb. Lucrecia had lost any chance she had of ever having children.

Then of course, Hojo had the _brilliant_ idea of incubating the child in something a bit stronger than a mere human female. Enter exhibit A: the body Cid currently inhabited, which was a clone of the _charming_ Dr. Crescent. Enter a _second_ brilliant idea to fuck with things men ought not to! Hojo went and enhanced the clone with a cocktail mix of mako and Cetra genes harvested from the Jenova specimen.

Most of the more personal details had been told to Cid by Lucrecia herself. She was a chatty woman, and had interesting ideas about what was proper. Apparently it was all fine and dandy to create a clone of your own self and then play mad-scientist-god with the clone’s genetics in order to make a self-regulating baby incubator for the spawn of a homicidal alien intelligence, but spirits forbid any of the guards or techs see said clone naked once it was complete! That just was not the way civilized people behaved! So Lucrecia Crescent her sainted self was Cid’s primary caretaker. Aside from treating Cid like the world’s most anatomically correct dress-up doll, she was decent enough. Well mannered, genuinely kind and caring towards her coworkers… Cid could see how Vincent could have fallen in love her the first time around. Except for the huge gaping hole where common sense and ethics should have been. That kind of sociopathic mental configuration tended to turn Cid off.

Fortunately, aside from his new career as Frankenstein Barbie and his daily adventure in the lab, Cid was mostly left alone and unwatched beyond a monitor bracelet that was more like an anti-theft device than a spying tool. All the time alone gave Cid plenty of opportunity to practice moving around in his new body. Clever man that he was, Cid had not needed Hojo’s gleeful little rant about ‘trace genetic memory’ and ‘high neural pathway generation’ to realize that the reason he had run into trouble moving around in the beginning was because the body he was in right now had never been moved under an internal sense of self-direction before. The brain was sending the message to the muscles, but the muscles had no idea what they were supposed to be doing.

Grudgingly, Cid had to admit to himself, and _only_ to himself, that the mako enhancement helped a whole hell of a lot. Without the mako infused into the cloned body it would have taken Cid a damn sight longer than a week to get strong enough to walk around on his own. Sometimes when he was practicing, Cid could swear he felt the mind-memory being carried down and turned into muscle-memory by the mako. That whole mako equals materia equals memory spiel he had to sit through at multiple points during _That Thing With The Meteor_ might actually have some validity to it after all. His mind knew what he was supposed to be able to do after forty-eight years, but his body was only a week and some days old. It was a complicated little dichotomy… and brain transplants were a line of inquiry that Cid was going to do his best to firmly discourage in the medical community should the opportunity ever arise.

Breathing steadily (an ability for which Cid was privately grateful, even if everything else was shit) Cid slid out of the bed. He swayed on his feet, still expecting his center of balance to be a few inches higher, but his grip on the bedpost kept him upright. Determined, Cid released his support and carefully took the first step. Everything was off-kilter, and for a spearman who spent more time in the air than on the ground it was a nightmare. As soon as he got settled into his new balance he was going to have to practice his footwork, this was ridiculous. At least he was still the same height, his arms and legs were still the same length. Cid did not think he could have dealt with adjusting to a new strike zone on top of everything else. Still, first things first – Cid needed to be able to walk in a straight line before he started worrying about his spear work. Now if he wobbled once or twice, that was fine, just as long as he did not fall over. It was a big room, more of an apartment to be truthful, on the third floor of the Shinra Mansion. Cid had never been on this floor of the mansion before, the basement having been the focus of Neo-Avalanche’s attention during their searches, so it was going to take a bit of planning to figure out the best path down to the labs.

Cid grinned at the end of his third lap around the furniture, coming to an almost-graceful stop on the far side of the room from the bed. Breathing was still easy, and Cid felt a little thrill every time he managed to fill his lungs without hitching. It would be a while until he forgot the pain of slow suffocation, if ever. He could still feel the phantom sensation of drowning on his own blood as his lungs rotted in his chest, feeling air against his face and knowing with a kind of hopeless resignation that it was not going to do him any good when he had no lungs to breathe the air with. Hojo deserved a spear to the gut for creating the pathogen Cid had been infected with alone, and that was not even getting into what he had done to Vincent, and Cloud, and even fucking _Sephiroth_. As soon as he could find something pointy enough, Cid was going to take great pleasure in gutting the slimy little pissant.

Growling, Cid looked up. Blinked, attention caught. There was a mirror attached to the dresser he was leaning against, a feminine bit of vanity that offered a full-body view in the tri-partite reflective surface. Cid had been installed in Lucrecia’s guestroom. Apparently being married to one of the lead scientists on the Project got you first dibs on the rooms. Lucrecia had her own bed, separate from Hojo’s in order to give her time to rest and recover from her miscarriage. Not that Cid blamed her; if _he_ had been married to Hojo he would want his own room too... but since that would require throwing over Vincent, fuck no never. Also, Hojo, _ew_.

Knowing what he did about his current body’s origins and having caught impressions in quasi-reflective surfaces in the lab, Cid did not expect to be all that surprised by what he looked like once he finally got a chance to have a good look.

He was wrong.

Where Cid had been expecting a mako-bleached version of Lucrecia was a female version of Cid himself. Blonde hair, pale blue eyes with vertical pupils like a cat, which contracted sharply in surprise, and _that_ was a new and interesting feature, and the angles of the face were all wrong for a clone of Lucrecia. The difference in bone structure was not terribly much, but Cid knew how much even a fractional change in an angle could affect the finished product. They had probably written off the changes as a resulting side-effect of Hojo’s tampering with Lucrecia’s genome while the clone was growing. Cid would probably be in a lot more trouble if Hojo had not spliced in that ‘Cetra’ DNA, the change in colouring notwithstanding, Cid was taller than Lucrecia by several good inches, and his overall structure was far sturdier than the dainty little scientist. Cid snorted in amusement, eying himself in the mirror. Not pretty, not in the way Tifa and Aeris or even Yuffie would be, if the hyperactive little ninja managed to survive puberty without annoying someone into putting her out of their collective misery, but there were some classic good looks here. Strong Highwind features, more striking than beautiful. Drawing back his shoulders Cid pulled his chin to the side, a mimic of his grandmother at her most exquisitely polite moments of distain.

“Fuckin’ statuesque, granddame.” The husky voice was rough with disuse, thread-thin from lack of practice, but damn. Cid was a sexy-sounding bitch. Smirking at himself, Cid flipped his hair, amused to have enough length to be able to pull the move off. Lucrecia had put him in a white lace dress and layered it with a shawl made of royal blue lace. There were blue ribbons in Cid’s hair, keeping it back from his face. Staring at the impressive woman in the mirror, a woman who belonged in some epic saga where people sang a lot and stuck wings on their helmets, Cid was reminded of his mother when he was young, the pride in her posture even when things went bad. Oddly enough, it gave Cid a measure of peace, being able to see his own blood in the woman shown to him by the mirror. “Well now, ain’t that somethin’.”

The door opened, and Cid panicked for a moment before calming, yanking his reactions back under control and pasting on his ‘mindless drone’ face.

“Nothing!” Hojo spat as he slammed the door shut behind his wife. “Everything we’ve done has been useless!”

Lucrecia bit her lip as she hovered uncertainly by her husband. “She is strong enough to produce the results we want.”

“Oh yes, no doubt of that. She is a lovely specimen.” A brief flicker of satisfaction crossed Hojo’s sallow face before he scowled again. “But none of the samples from paternal subjects are capable of breaking through the ovum barrier, and technology is incapable of keeping up with the needs of my genius.”

Hah. Cid turned around to watch the scientists, fighting down the grin that wanted to erupt. None of Hojo’s flunkies were man enough to get Cid pregnant. Take that Hojo.

“Oh dear.” Lucrecia sighed, frowning thoughtfully as she drifted away to a window, chewing on her lip. She straightened with a gasp, whirling around to face Hojo. “That’s it! It’s so simple!”

“What?” Hojo’s heavy brow creased in irritation as he looked up from his notes.

“We need an enhanced male donor!” Lucrecia was speaking quickly in her excitement, and Hojo’s dark expression turned calculating as he listened. “We’ve been going about this the wrong way. Yes, the JENOVA Project needs an enhanced growth environment, but that restricts us when it comes to choosing the secondary contributor! We would need something on par with, oh with the CHAOS Project results. Is there anything viable coming out of the SOLDIER Project yet?”

“Hmm... the idea has merit.” Hojo drummed his fingers against the file in his other hand, a nasty sort of glee twisting his face. “Yes, why don’t we do that... Yes, why not? We’ll recycle the materials from the CHAOS Project; it’s the least that can be done to make up for the interruption of the first iteration of the JENOVA Project.”

Cid froze. He barely noticed that the two scientists were leaving the room, jabbering excitedly at one another about inheritance traits and hybrid vigour. CHAOS Project? Were they talking about Vincent? They were going to use _Vincent_ to breed their alien super-baby? _Cid’s_ Vincent? That was beyond crazy... by this time Hojo had already _killed_ Vincent (‘tested to destruction’ the file had said) and _then_ Lucrecia had done some crazy Lazarus shit with Vincent’s mako-saturated body and primordial-forces-men-were-not-supposed-to-meddle-with.

Cid was going to have _that_ Vincent’s baby?

Holy fuck.

**JENOVA Project File No. 39**

_Suggestion made by Dr. Crescent to utilize an enhanced male donor. Specimen V (see CHAOS Project files) only current option. Approval for the use of recycled Project materials pending._

_File amendment 1: Request for use of CHAOS Project materials approved for JENOVA Project Experiment 3._

**JENOVA Project File No. 40**

_Attempts to harvest reproductive sample from Specimen V failed. Subject appears to have mentally regressed to a feral state – perhaps a result of the temporary death experienced prior to the CHAOS experiment? Subject has shown no recognition of individuals such as Dr. Crescent or Dr. Hojo despite emotionally intense personal histories. It may be necessary to consider another male subject and perform the needed enhancements._

_Delay of the JENOVA Project continues._

=/=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, Cid. You are my favourite. It is you. Cid's narrative voice is the best narrative voice.


	4. When the Norns choose, Mortals have No Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain people exist in every iteration of every world. For the world of Gaia, Sephiroth is one such Universal Constant. Once again the Norns weave the beginning of the Silver General's legend into their tapestry of Fate. However...
> 
> Existence is ever vulnerable to _changes_ , and nothing changes the landscape quite like an AVALANCHE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have _so many_ pseudo-science theories for Gaia, You Don't Even Know.
> 
> Monster Toxins, _think about it_.

=/=

**JENOVA Project File No. 41**

_While less than ideal, it may be time to consider alternatives to the current Primary genome sources. The possibility remains that Dr. Crescent’s ovum remain viable. While not ideal as that of Specimen CC, Dr. Crescent’s genome has already proven adaptable to the JENOVA treatments. Hypothesis: Harvest Dr. Crescent’s ovum and implant the treated and fertilized zygote into Specimen CC for optimum growth environs._

/…/

**(In which Time is not linear, and CHAOS is a troll of the highest order.)**

In the centuries his Materia had lain dormant CHAOS had been aware of the shifts that occurred on Gaia, both within the Lifestream and without. CHAOS had known of Minerva’s investiture within the Lifestream flow as Jenova’s counterbalance, opposition, and jailer. It had only been a vague awareness, much like knowing that the couple down the street had brought home a new baby. A notable event that nonetheless had little to no impact on life otherwise.

Until CHAOS’ little trick against the Norns found him running headfirst into the Cetra High Priestess turned demi-Goddess.

Although many times more powerful, ages older, and with eons more experience traversing the ethereal plane, CHAOS was hampered in his movements by the need to multitask. Between keeping direct control of the reversed Lifestream flow, holding Cid’s soul intact without allowing any of the human’s Memory to go splintering off, and the delicate balance that was struck by Vincent’s multi-faceted existence, well… there was very little attention left to deal diplomatically with the Planet’s formerly-mortal Guardian.

It was a classic example of an unstoppable force meeting an only _mostly_ immovable object. CHAOS tore through Minerva’s web of protections like a meteor through stained glass. Splinters flew wide in a sharp, glittering rainbow as Reality fractured from the inside out.

Ignoring Minerva’s increasingly frantic screaming, CHAOS took aim. Reading the flows and eddies of the Lifestream carefully even as CHAOS maintained momentum. It was imperative that CHAOS get this right the first time. There would be no second chance. After coming this far, the _last_ thing CHAOS wanted to deal with was fumbling the landing.

Cid would be lost to them forever if CHAOS missed.

There. That was the moment. The shatter point of their existence. No one knew better than CHAOS that cheating Fate was all in the timing.

The power CHAOS had harnessed and brought to bear shook the Lifestream in a cataclysm of wild, unchecked change. A star going nova. The birth of a new future.

CHAOS grinned, triumphant and pleased as past and future collapsed to give way to the new present. Even as Cid’s spirit was ripped from their grip, CHAOS grinned. They had already succeeded.

_Now_.

/…/

**(In which Cid is a vindictive bundle of sass and murder.)**

Captain Cid Highwind was an irritable and easily angered person. This was a widely known and long accepted part of his personality. For the better part of his life Cid had been largely focused on building planes and flying along with all the math and physics and engineering that went into developing ever more revolutionary changes to the field of aeronautics. That had left Cid with precious little time or energy, much less a _reason_ to learn how to control his prodigious temper.

Now that Cid was trapped three decades in the past and wearing the cloned body of the woman who had gotten his best friend _killed_ , Cid was beginning to regret that he had never bothered with learning how to lie or fool people about his thoughts and feelings.

After all, the clone of Dr. Crescent-Hojo should not have the mental acuity or comprehension required to feel anger about her situation. That left Cid relying _heavily_ on the inborn human tendency to ignore the things that contradicted their beliefs about how the world should be working.

Thankfully being a rocket scientist and test pilot came with a steep learning curve regarding areas of interest, and considering how interested Cid was in _not_ coming any further to Hojo’s attention than he already _was_ the temporally displaced Captain learned to reign in his temper rather quickly.

Escape would simply be that much easier if no one guarding Cid realized that ‘the clone’ was even capable of understanding what ‘escape’ _was_ , to say nothing of Cid’s ability to plan for the future. Usually Cid _hated_ being underestimated, but he figured that this case was an understandable exception, even to Cid’s admittedly monumental sense of pride.

Despite the slip-ups Cid had during the first few days of this cosmic cock-up of a situation, Cid had managed to keep his intelligence and self-agency under wraps so far. The idea that his home-grown personalized alien-baby incubator might have an actual consciousness had never crossed Hojo’s mind. That would be akin to Hojo believing that his centrifuge had an opinion on his experiments. Given that Hojo was a level of sociopathic that did not quite register other individuals as actual _people_ , Cid knew that it would take a lot more than a few scowls on Cid’s part before Hojo cottoned on to the reality of the situation.

For her part, Lucrecia Crescent treated Cid like a combination of dress-form mannequin and a really dumb purse dog. Being treated like a pet was a margin better than being considered a piece of lab equipment, but it was a rather narrow margin.

It grated, having to be quiet and patient, but Cid would tamp it down and save it all for later. Like riding the edge of a Limit Break until the enemy was in the perfect range. Cid needed to find where they were keeping Vincent first, and only _then_ would Cid unleash the full might and fury of his temper on the twisted, amoral _hacks_ who _dared_ to call themselves scientists when they were _no better than butchers!_

Footsteps sounded from further down the hall, echoing in the empty corridor, and Cid swiftly forced his snarl back under control. Relaxing the jaw, smoothing out the lines of tension, lifting his eyebrows slightly so his eyes were widened. The vacant, guileless, empty doll-like expression not only his Cid’s thoughts and emotions, but it also had the additional benefit of disturbing the guards and lab assistants.

Cid took his amusements where he could these days. At least the mako-given augmentation of his senses let him listen in on conversations without needing to get too close to Hojo’s flunkies. This early in Hojo’s career no one had any idea what a SOLDIER was capable of, which translated to no one having a sweet clue what _Cid_ was capable of now.

Cid took his sliver linings where he found them.

Slowing his stride, Cid drifted down the hall, walking aimlessly instead of marching with his usual determined purpose. Unfocused glowing eyes looked through the guards, not quite registering them as anything important, and Cid pretended not to see the way the taller trooper shuddered, drawing away from Cid and hurrying forward to continue their patrol.

His back now to the guards, Cid scoffed silently, rolling his eyes. Spirits, nothing but pathetic cowards and amoral sadists for days. Not surprising, given they were in Hojo’s territory, but it made Cid itch for his spear. His spear, and the ability to call in an air strike as needed. Now he _really_ understood his ancestors urges to burn the enemy keep and salt what remained. Fucking chicken-shit _morons_ no matter how many scholastic degrees they may hold.

Cid wanted _blood_ for putting up with his insult.

Cid wanted to _gut_ the slimy streaks of piss, so _where in the frigid frozen Hel were they hiding his Vincent?_

/…/

**(Cid demonstrates the value of Hindsight, especially when one is trapped in the past in a body that is not ones own.)**

Cid was beginning to suspect that Avalanche as a whole should have put a bit more thought and effort into searching the ShinRa Mansion. Especially after it became blatantly obvious that Hojo had staged the entire place to gaslight Sephiroth and streamline the plan for Jenova’s Reunion. As the only structure that had survived Nibelheim’s destruction, the ShinRa Mansion should have been a priority, but between waking up Vincent and chasing after hints of Sephiroth and Hojo… they had forgotten to be thorough.

There were a fuckton of rooms and a maze of corridors that Avalanche had never bothered to search. Three entire wings of the mansion that had been closed off and ignored in the future. To say nothing about the full extent of the lab complex belowground that extended nearly to the property line.

It was taking Cid a hel of a lot longer to locate Vincent’s cell than he had originally estimated. At this rate Hojo would manage to knock Cid up with Jenova’s murder-spawn before he could get them out of dodge.

The fucker was _really_ wearing on Cid’s last nerve. The occasional staff meeting and murder attempt had _not_ prepared Cid to deal with prolonged exposure to Hojo’s uniquely creepy version of madness. Seriously, how the _fuck_ has Hojo gotten through his doctorate degree without being poisoned for the greater benefit of mankind?

Cid was tempted every hour to break cover and kill the alien-worshipping lunatic himself, but… Vincent was the priority here. The sooner Cid found his partner, the sooner he would have competent backup, the sooner they could gut Hojo and fuck over Jenova’s plans for world wide destruction and the end of all life on the planet.

A spark at the edge of his awareness drew Cid’s attention away from his murderous plans for pre-emptive vengeance. It was a bit like having an entirely new Sense materia slotted, and Cid had been working to Master the stupid new ability, even as he cursed Hojo to Hel and back for not being able to leave a human’s genome well enough alone.

Unlike the sickly, slimy greed of the scientists or the brittle dullness of the guards, Cid could feel sharp intensity and pin-point focus over cold rage and a predator’s bloodlust.

It was the first time Cid had even touched this presence with his new in-born Sense but he still knew without doubt or hesitation who that was.

“Found ya.” Grinning in victory, Cid picked up his pace. “Hang on, Vince. I’m comin’ fer ya.”

/…/

**(Vincent finally makes his appearance in the past.)**

They-who-were-Vincent had not forgotten the day they had awoken from Death. How they had been _changed_ , altered against their will and made _other-than-what-had-been_. How they were now longer the singular-one but the multi-voiced-many. They remembered the pain, and the betrayal worse than pain, and the many, many years they had lain forgotten and abandoned to the dark filled with screams.

When they awoke again, the multitude of their many selves still scattered and fractured from the effort of twisting the Lifestream’s flow to their selfish purpose and fending of Minerva’s attempt to waylay their travels against the currents of Space-Time, they knew exactly _where_ they were, as well as _when_ they were.

Just raised from Death once again, their body weakened and still mostly-mortal despite the furious and ancient magicks worked and woven into physical shell and ethereal soul. It had taken years upon years after their resurrection to achieve coherency the first time. This second lifetime was a matter of weeks before they pulled themselves together once more. With their previous experience this second shattering was almost a blessing. They did a better job of it this time, the all-but mindless shamble of missed pieces that had formed the violent impulses labelled Hellmasker and the lurching force call Death Gigas had been reintegrated into the three aspects who remained.

The forms and powers they kept, but only as masks under the control of their primary-self.

Id, Ego, and Superego. Galian Beast, Vincent Valentine, and Chaos. Beast, Human, and Greater Spirit. Monster, Man, and Cosmic Force. Far stronger now than they had been before. Far more stable now with their sharp edges blurred and pieces overlapping. They could communicate now, share knowledge and opinions and desires. Not-quite-intrusive thoughts with minds of their own. Vincent was the balance point between instinct and omnipotence, and so his was once again the foremind, his the overlay through which the other two spirits were filtered.

They had re-achieved equilibrium only days ago, had only just started formulating plans for their escape, a rough outline for finding their pilot and perhaps stealing Sephiroth to bloody Hojo’s nose before killing their murderer in turn, when the door to their cage swung open. A woman rushed in, unfamiliar to them for less than a heartbeat. Then she spied them, and _they knew those eyes_.

Blue as the skies, a heart as vast and grand as the vault of the Heavens, a brilliant mind capable of reaching the stars, the spirit of a hurricane made mortal. Cid Highwind’s grin was still fierce and bright and wild as ever despite the female body their friend wore. “Vincent!”

“Cid.” They-who-were-Vincent gathered Cid close in a tight embrace, nose buried in oddly long ash-blonde hair as they breathed a sigh of relief. Their friend had not forgotten them. “Cid.”

Salt and spice and smoke filled their nose, filled their head with sweet-soft heat, still healing thoughts fuzzy and loose and blurred. Cid’s rough-strong-clever hands in their hair, shifting over their skin, cautious-curious touch seeking out and tracing old scars still red0skinned and fragile with new healing. Breath shared mouth to mouth, limbs tangled and locked together with jealous desperation. Time moved oddly, slowed and stretched and skipping, stuttered like a scratched vinyl record, halftime to doubletime without warning.

Through it all Cid was there with them, yearning and welcoming and demanding in turns, all at once, whispering goads and encouragements and entreaties into the small gaps that formed and closed as their bodies moved together. The desire clawed at the inside of their ribs, pounded at their temples, burned under their skin as if all their blood had turned to fire. Too much, too insistent, a crushing force that left no room for compromise.

“Cid.” Their apology stuck in their throat, choked them as they buried their face in Cid’s sweat-shined bared shoulder.

“S’okay, Vince.” A gasp, short eyelashes fluttering. “I understand, it’s _okay_. I… I want ya too.”

Given absolution, given permission, given _consent_ … the last of their resistance broke, and they lost themselves in Cid.

/…/

**(Cid has So Much Regret because apparently it is still possible to think with your dick even when you’re a woman.)**

Cid… probably should have thought the whole ‘find Vincent’ plan through a bit more. What with the way Cid’s female body had been modeled after Vincent’s lady-love, and dosed with a pharmacy’s worth of fertility drugs and hormone cocktails. Combined with Vincent’s status as a host to primal, inhuman forces that Vincent only had tenuous control over… Cid _really_ should have seen something like this coming.

(Gods oath, Cid’s _toes_ were tingling. Holy _shit_ , Vincent had been holding out on him!)

The way his new body had reacted to Vincent’s proximity had taken Cid by complete surprise. Sure, Cid had entertained a fantasy of two about the gunman in the past, but he had never shoved Vincent down and ripped his clothes off before. Vincent returning the favour had blindsided Cid just as badly as the new set of instinctive drives. It was less arousal and more like riding a Limit Break.

By the time Cid had managed to get his head back together they had both been naked, and the tormented struggle in Vincent’s eyes had been painfully obvious. Whatever was affecting Cid was _worse_ for Vincent. Of course Cid had given in, had asked for it. It was _Vincent_ , and Vincent deserved whatever relief from his pain and grief that Cid could provide. Selfish as it was, Cid had wanted Vincent for a long time, so he shoved the thought of impaired consent from him mind.

(Half-formed and unacknowledged, the thought that Sephiroth might be inevitable lingered in the back of Cid’s mind.)

Sex as a woman was… strange. Not _bad_ , per say, but distinctly not what Cid was used to. Everything from arousal to pleasure to orgasm was _different_. Not bad, more odd and not-quite off-putting, so Cid could roll with it, and thought that he might even be able to get used to it if Vincent wanted to go again some other time.

( _Eventually_ get used to it. If there were no other options available.)

Even mako-enhanced super-human libidos could be sated, and were, and Cid was just starting to think about taking a nap when the door Cid had left ajar crashed fully open and guards swarmed the room.

‘ _Shit!_ ’ Cid flung himself out of the way as Vincent lunged, his scream of rage shifting to Galian Beast’s deeper roar mid-stride. ‘ _Oh, fuck me. Dammit! How could I forget we were in_ Hojo’s lab _of all the_ stupid _fucking things!’_

A dozen rifles roared back, tranquilizer round thudding into the behemoth even as Galian Beast ploughed into the line of guards. As the situation rapidly dissolved into carnage, Cid wished once again for his spear. _Any_ of his spears, he was not going to be picky right now.

(Fuck, they never should have let themselves get so distracted they forgot about escaping. That was _stupid_ of them… and very, very strange, now that Cid thought about it, adrenaline flushing his system clear of artificial influences. Since when were Cid _or_ Vincent the type to risk a booty call in enemy territory? What the _fuck_ had Hojo been dosing him with?)

“Fascinating.” Hojo peered over the guards shoulders as Vincent’s drugged-comatose body was tossed back into the specimen cell. The design was a few decades cruder but still familiar to Cid from when Avalanche had rescued Aeris and freed Red. “Amazing. I had not thought instinct strong enough in human sources… though I suppose I should not have dismissed the option out of hand. Properly controlled and observed… Yes. This will do nicely.”

Ignoring his nakedness and the way Hojo’s greedy eyes made his skin crawl, Cid edged around the swarming guards, trying to get a better look at Vincent. Fuck, was he even breathing? The thick glass made it hard to tell. How much tranquilizer had they hit him with?

“Hmph. I’ll need to check the monitor tapes to be sure she was properly mounted. This mess would indicate otherwise.” Hojo snapped his fingers at the techs lingering by the door. “Gather up the samples. Some might still be viable despite contamination. Get Specimen CC to my lab for testing. And I want a transcript of what happened in here on my desk within the hour!”

(Goddamned fucking _Hojo_. Somehow, Cid just _knew_ that this whole shitty situation was his doing, the fucking sadist.)

/…/

**JENOVA Project File No. 45**

_Specimen CC entered unmonitored contact with Specimen V. Subjects engaged in breeding behaviours prior to discovery. Reproductive materials collected from both subjects after separation._

_Materials harvested from Specimen V retain motility even after prolonged exposure to hostile environs. Three successful fertilizations of CC-ovum on file._

/…/

**JENOVA Project File No. 46**

_Specimen CC hormone test indicative of heightened fertility. Reintroduction to Specimen V ordered._

/…/

**(Hojo is SUPER CREEPY OH MY GODS, and Cid is flying high with the birdies.)**

“Reintroducing Project: JENOVA Specimen CC and Project: CHAOS Specimen V.” The hiss of the pressurized separation wall retracting echoed oddly off the reinforced transparent wall of the circular cell.

The air between the subjects was hazy, misted with an aerosolized cocktail of artificial hormones and fertility boosters. Cid grimaced, head spinning with a feverish heat wreaking havoc on his body. The only thing that made sense were the red eyes across the way, just as lost and confused as Cid felt.

(Hojo liked to play with monsters, why had Cid never stopped to consider what Hojo had managed to produce from their remains? Confuse, and Rage, and Hyper… some bastardized version of the monster toxins turned into a gas and pumped in thick enough to _see_.)

Cid moved, stumbling like a drunk, met halfway by red eyes and trembling hands.

(Why was Vincent so short? Still taller than Cid but not tall _enough_. Had Vincent’s body been changed as much as Cid’s? Questions on questions and still no _answers_.)

There. That was better. Everything was better when Cid was with…

(Maybe Sephiroth could have been avoided, given the chance, but Hojo had never been a man overly concerned with the desires and choices made by others.)

/…/

**JENOVA Project File No. 48**

_Controlled breeding successful. Specimen CC tested positive for impregnation. Specimen V returned to long-term storage._

=/=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Whenever I write Hojo into a scene I regret every single one of my life choices. I know he's integral to the storyline, and I know that he's a major contributor to the plot, and I know that Hojo makes up about 45% of the antagonist roles in the FFVII genre but OH MY GODS I HATE HIM SO MUCH!
> 
> Rrrgh. None of my _other_ villains give me this much trouble. Stupid shitty sadist bastard. I'd honestly feel better about myself if he were harder to write. Except no! Hojo's easy! Just be as creepy and amoral as possible and you've _nailed_ his character.
> 
> Now, Lucrecia, _she's_ hard for me to get right, because all my basis about her life choices aside she's supposedly a mostly-redeemable character BUT I DON'T LIKE HER EITHER RRRGH!!
> 
> In other news, Sephiroth is on his way!


	5. Negative Odds Mean Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change the players, and you change the game. Switch the pieces, and reorder the board.
> 
> Cid thought he knew how things were going to play out.
> 
> (Cid was wrong.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING IN EFFECT** : Cid uses some pretty judgmental, nasty language while blaming a miscarry on Lucrecia. He's well aware of _exactly_ how harmful his word choice is, and is using it _deliberately_ to induce suicidal depression in Lucrecia. This is not a nice chapter, nor does Cid portray himself in a particularly heroic manner. Please be aware of this going into the chapter, and do not read it if such things are outside your personal comfort zone. 
> 
> If you need to, please skip the last scene, which begins after the second **bolded** scene break description line. Thank you for reading responsibly.

=/=

**(Cid’s really good at math, so he knows what the odds are. This? This is not math. This is utter bullshit.)**

Cid had never hated Sephiroth in the future-that-had-been. Angry with the situation? Yes. Pissed that the world was on the cusp of destruction? Fuck, yes. Irritated that a man with that much personal and professional power had been driven mad without interference or notice? You bet you _ass_. Hatred, though? No, if anything Cid had _pitied_ the Sephiroth that Avalanche had chased.

Unlike the other members of Avalanche Cid had been free, awake, and aware of the corruption festering in the Upper Management of the Shin-Ra Company. Unlike Reeve, who had ignored any issues that made him uncomfortable. Unlike Cloud, and Vincent who had been prisoners. Unlike Aeris and Red, who were in hiding. Unlike Barrett and Tifa, who were terrorists driven by anger and the need for revenge, who never thought about how their actions affected others. We never realized that without Shin-Ra there were thousands of people without jobs, thousands of people without power for heat or lights or water.

Awake and where and with a decent rank patch on his shoulders, Captain Cid Highwind was rational enough to see that Sephiroth was just as much a victim is any member of the Avalanche team. Less than some, more than others, Sephiroth had been used and broken by Shin-Ra long before he went mad.

With the survival of the entire planet hanging in the balance, none of them had stopped to over think things. With Jenova puppeteering Sephiroth over and over again, Avalanche could not afford to consider Sephiroth as anything but a threat and an enemy. So Cid had kept quiet, had kept his opinions to himself, and had silently toasted to wasted potential and broken soldiers when the whiskey was keeping him company for the night.

That lack of hate saved his sanity when Hojo started gloating about the success of his Jenova project.

Vincent has been locked away in the coffin-shaped cryo-chamber, Lucrecia was being more creepily invasive than normal, and Hojo had started talking to himself in the lab. So the fact that Cid was pregnant with the genocidal madman who had tried to blow up the planet could very well have broken him. Except for the fact that Cid _knew_ that Sephiroth had been mostly sane and relatively decent up until the Nibelheim mission. Furthermore there was only a miniscule chance that Cid’s baby could _actually_ be Sephiroth.

Chaos Theory had a lot to answer for. Lucrecia Crescent was not Sephiroth’s mother this time around, Cid Highland was. Hojo could not claim to be Sephiroth’s father, because that honour was Vincent’s (or Galian’s, or _Chaos’_. It was still a little confusing, to be honest.)

Different parents, different methods and dates of conception. If Cid did in fact give birth to the _actual_ Sephiroth from the future that he remembered then he was going to call _bullshit_ on the _entire fucking planet_. It was _impossible_ for Cid to be pregnant with Sephiroth.

(Idly, Cid wondered what the future of this timeline would look like without the Silver General in it. Hojo’s position would be much weaker, for one, as long as Cid managed to protect _his_ child from the madman’s inhuman experiments.)

No, Cid did not hate Sephiroth, he never had, but he _did_ fear allowing his child becoming _like_ him. Hojo’s experiment. Jenova’s puppet. Shin-Ra’s most well known victim. Avalanche’s target for elimination.

(There had to be something Cid could do.)

/…/

The Lifestream ebbed and surged, pooled and flowed. Chance and fate clashed and combined. Everything that had been, was, would be, laid out in a mosaic of choices and destinies.

There and here and then and now, this was the option, the chance to take, the opportunity knocking.

Do, or do not. Take action, refrain. Results, and consequences.

What now?

What _now_?

See the opening.

 _Act_.

/…/

Nine months after Vincent had been put on ice, the gunman still not fully recovered from the resurrection of his body and the transmigration of mind and soul from a not-yet, maybe-never-would-be future. Nine months and several weeks of pretending to be a mindless, docile meat-doll. Nine months subjected to Hojo’s experiments and casual sadism. Nine months of social isolation. Nine months without a real conversation, without a smoke or a drink or being able to work on any of the ideas buzzing around in his head.

Nine months of reassuring himself, over and over, that his baby could never be, and would never be, the Sephiroth he had known and helped kill in the future-that-had-been.

Nine months of slowly going crazy from the silence and the intrusive thoughts and the guilt. Vincent was still locked away. Cid’s baby was still being twisted and warped in the womb by Hojo’s experiments.

It made Cid sick, each time he let Hojo inject his serums without struggle. They left Cid feeling weak and feverish. He could only imagine and worry about what effect they were having on his child. Could only dread what would happen after the child was born.

Cid could feel his body growing less human with each experiment. Could feel the alien drives and senses and instincts wake up, take root, unfurl.

(it started as whispers, nudges, hints. It grew over time into a bone deep _knowing_ of everything that was taking place around him. An awareness of choices being made and the cascade of consequences that resulted each time. Not yet. Not yet… He could flip the board, change the game, but _not yet_.)

Nine months of carrying another life inside his body, of feeling another soul shift under his skin.

Nine months of waiting and planning, and Cid _still_ was not ready when the labour started.

(Oh _shit_. This was going to _suck_.)

/…/

‘ _I call bullshit!_ ’ Exhausted, messy with blood and less savoury fluids, in considerable pain, and _supremely unimpressed_ with life, the planet, and everything on it, Cid squinted at the wrinkled, red little creature that had taken considerable time and effort to push from his body. What little hair of the infant had was shock white, and the brief glimpse Cid caught of the newborn’s eyes showed them to be green as magic materia.

(Lucrecia had named the infant Sephiroth, and had been reluctant to return the newborn to Cid’s arms. Only Hojo’s caustic lecture on the enzyme and nutrition requirements of ‘Specimen S’ best being met being met by ‘Specimen CC’ had calmed the nearly hysterical woman down. Fucking _hell_ , who’s brilliant idea was it to let a pair of _geneticists_ fuck around with human experimentation _unsupervised_?)

Eyes fixed on the far off future, Cid tried to reconcile himself to what had just happened. The newborn, ignorant of Cid’s internal vitriolic screaming, continued to nurse. _Sephiroth_ was currently suckling at Cid’s tit. _Sephiroth_ , against all odds and in brazen defiance but the reality of the situation, was _Cid and Vincent’s_ _son_.

(Oh _shit_.)

The future was now a looming threat and an all-too-quickly approaching nightmare. How long could Cid put it off? What did he need to do in order to change the course of events that would see his son driven to madness, and then death?

( _Sephiroth_. How the fuck? _How_? The odds of the right combination of genes happening after Chaos had crash-landed the two of them in the past were _in the fucking negatives_! How the _fuck_?)

Cid was _absolutely_ calling bullshit.

=/=

**(Cid’s not really cut out for this mind games bullshit. He gets ornery and mean. As in, more so than usual.)**

Dr. Lucrecia Crescent was keeping secrets from her husband. Cid had a front row seat to the show that was Lucrecia’s gradual yet rapid slide into suicidal depression.

The woman had never been what Cid would be able to label ‘emotionally healthy’, but now that Lucrecia was _obviously_ unbalanced. The damage to her psych caused by Grimoire Valentine’s death, prolonged exposure to Hojo’s sociopathy, being an accessory to Vincent’s murder, losing her baby, raising Vincent’s body from the dead only for the man to be feral and hell-bent on killing her… it all piled up. Gast and Ilfana were proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Aeris had come by her shit disturbing tendencies honestly. The way they picked at the Lucrecia’s weaknesses without losing their combined auras of kindness and geniality was downright artful. For such a smart woman, Lucrecia had been stupidly short-sighted when she chose to marry a man hated by all of their peers.

The way Lucrecia had taken to disappearing late at night, and the surge of gleefully vindictive rage that surfaced from artificial silence, told Cid all he needed to know about what she was up to. Lucrecia was trying to talk to Vincent, trying to absolve herself of her guilt and responsibility. Too bad for her, all Lucrecia had managed to wake was Chaos, and Cid _knew_ that Primal Spirit would _relish_ the opportunity to break Lucrecia’s mind wide open.

Chaos was succeeding admirably in that goal. Cid could see Lucrecia’s sanity fray bit by bit as Sephiroth grew, and it became only more obvious that the baby wanted _nothing_ to do with the female scientist. Sephiroth only wanted his _mother_ and Lucrecia was _not Sephiroth’s mother_. The way the white haired infant screamed when Cid was more than a few meters away only hammered in the truth of that.

It amused Cid that Sephiroth had been _born_ a mama’s boy.

(Really, it explained _so much_ about the Demon General. _So_ much.)

“Se-Sephiroth, come on. Puh-please come to M-mommy. Honey, _please_.” Lucrecia had tears streaming down her face as she tried to pick up the eighteen month old toddler. “Let Mommy p-pick you up.”

“No!” Sephiroth screamed, tiny hands flailing at Lucrecia’s arms as the toddler kicked and squirmed with above human strength. Even a normal toddler was difficult to hold in place while they were determined to tantrum. Lucrecia had no chance of holding Sephiroth still, not with all his augmented strength, not when the toddler wanted nothing to do with her. “No! Mama, mama no!”

Scrambling to Cid’s side, Sephiroth put his hands up in the universal sign of a small child who wanted to be held. Cid saw the despair flash across Lucrecia’s face and lowered his eyes to take in Sephiroth’s pleading pout.

“Sephiroth, s-sweetheart, please.” Fresh tears spill down Lucrecia’s face, gaunt from too many skipped meals. “Mommy j-just wants to h-hold you, honey. Wh-why…”

(Time slowed, stilling, a hush falling on the world. Now. _Now_. The time was now. If he acted now his opponent would break, would shatter. Act now, remove the enemy’s piece from the board.)

Lucrecia could not remain alive. Not when the woman was determined to make Sephiroth think that she, and not Cid, was the boy’s mother. Cid’s eyes narrowed, and he let the glare of his true anger replace the blank emptiness that Lucrecia was used to seeing. Her shock was almost as amusing as a complete lack of comprehension.

(She was weak now, vulnerable. One more push, and she would break, would shatter beyond repair. There would be no mercy here. Cid refused to allow this _pretender_ to steal _his son_. Cid would destroy her, and she would be too far gone when he was done to expose them. The irony was delicious. Cid had never hidden the streak of cruelty threaded through his temper, but being trapped like this had only made him ever more vicious.)

“Why d’ya fuckin’ _think_ , woman?” Cid grinned, teeth bared he scooped his son up onto his hip. “Y’ain’t his mama, and the boy damn well knows it. And thank all the fuckin’ gods fer _that_! No kid deserves a mama who’ll do nothin’ but hurt ‘em.”

“You can _talk_ …” Lucrecia stared at Cid in horror, her face pale and frightened.

“Yeah.” Snarling, Cid tucked Sephiroth’s face under his chin. “I kin _fuckin’ talk_ , and now I’m tellin’ ya ta _stay the fuck away_ from m’baby, ya sadistic _bitch_.”

Lucrecia recoiled like Cid had slapped her, eyes wide. “I am _not_!”

“Ya killed his papa!” Cid snarled over Lucrecia’s offended protests, taking vicious satisfaction in the way the woman flinched away. “Ya killed his grandpa! Ya _poison_ my son _jest ta see what happens_. Yer a _monster_ , and _ya know it_.”

“No…” Lucrecia stumbled back, voice barely more than a whisper, a pained moan of denial.

“Yeah, ya _are_. After all…” Cid tilted his head, unblinking as he landed the killing blow without hesitation. “Only a _monster_ would _kill_ her own baby _before it could be born_.”

Before Cid’s eyes Lucrecia Crescent fell.

Shattered.

To.

Pieces.

(It was _morbidly_ fascinating to watch. Cid had never really given a shit about the pro-choice arguments, but seeing the effect his words had on Lucrecia was a revelation. Would _Cid_ have been this badly effected if _he_ had miscarried? Cid had not actually wanted to get knocked-up in the first place, which was a whole different kettle of fish. If Cid had been given the chance to abort, would he have done so? All questions without answers, brought about by this insane, twisted situation that Chaos had landed him in nearly two years ago now.)

Staggering to her feet Lucrecia _screamed_ , tearing at her hair. Sobbing, wailing, Lucrecia fled the room.

Cid watched her go and tried to summon some iota of guilt, some measure of regret, but could find nothing but satisfaction over the results of two years of careful work. Lucrecia had always been Hojo’s will ally in depravity, and thus was Cid’s enemy. Seeing her run was Cid’s victory.

(For all that Chaos had set Lucrecia up for Cid’s rewording of the truth to knock her down, Lucrecia herself had caused the most damage to her mental stability. Cid wanted to feel pity, but it was out of his reach. Had been out of his reach from the moment Lucrecia drugged Vincent with the intent of experimenting on any resulting children.)

“… Mama?” Sephiroth patted Cid’s face.

“Yeah, baby. Mama’s here.” Cid chuckled, booping Sephiroth’s nose to make the toddler giggle. “C’mon, kiddo. S’about time ta feed ya, anyways.”

“Nom!” Sephiroth cheered, swinging his feet as Cid carried him to the little kitchenette stocked with baby food. “Mama, nom!”

(Somewhere outside the waking world, they-who-were-Chaos laughed. Victorious once more over one of their murderers. Lucrecia Crescent, broken hearted and mind disturbed, threw herself from a cliff, falling from the Nibel Mountain heights into the white rapids far below.)

Face pressed to the top of his son’s head, Cid hid a smile as Hojo raged through the labs. Hearing Chaos cackles echoing from a place beyond human notice.

( _One down_ …)

=/=

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cid Highwind is an engineer, and thus tends to think logically in terms of action and reaction, adjustment and result.
> 
> He _really_ hates me for pulling this 'inevitability' bullshit. ♥ 
> 
> From this chapter forward we're going to be doing a bit of time-skipping. We'll hit the high notes, but things will progress rather quickly, plot-wise, up until we hit the start of the Wutai War. So hang onto your kit, my lovelies, I'm kicking this up a notch. ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> My love for Cid Highwind cannot be contained. Of all the members of Avalanche I think the Captain is the one with the highest chances of success when it comes down to 'fixing' the people who try to break the Planet in half. This is why Cid gets to travel through time.
> 
> Although...
> 
> It's probably not in the way you're thinking.


End file.
